


Thistle and Shamrock

by Gryphonrhi



Series: Aidan-verse 5: The random bits and pieces [11]
Category: Highlander: The Raven, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Families of Choice, Gen, Slice of Life, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryphonrhi/pseuds/Gryphonrhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor frequently keeps details to himself, pertinent or not.  He just doesn't always explain why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thistle and Shamrock

**Author's Note:**

> Raine found this in her folders, and the note on the bottom indicates I wrote it and sent it to her for a character check. The hilarious thing is, I don't remember it at all. The writing is definitely mine, the set-up feels like hers, but we both think I wrote it. Oh, well! It's an AU now -- Connor's getting a different student. But for the easily amused, here, have 1400 words of a way the Aidan-verse isn't going.

The sensation of an approaching immortal washed over Nick, pressure so strong that he wondered who in hell this was... and why he could feel cheerful anticipation in it? He glanced up from the display case he was partially dismantling for repairs and stood up in time to see a tall brunette woman striding confidently down the sidewalk, straight towards Nash Antiques. The ex-cop raised an eyebrow as he studied her: she looked like she either couldn't afford a damn thing in the shop or could buy it out without blinking.

She wore corduroy pants in some color between ash-grey and lavender and a ratty, oversized, off-white fisherman's sweater over them. Brown-black hair had been loosely caught back in a fabric ponytail holder at the center of her back, swaying from side to side at her waist with each step; his months with Connor made Nick wonder if she had a sword hilt under that dark mass. The sweater was certainly long enough to conceal one. Her face was almost triangular – wide-browed, sharp-chinned, and her eyebrows were dark, amused inquiries about the world around her as she saw him staring, smiled, and nodded pleasantly.

The doorbell chimed sweetly as she came in, catching the door easily rather than have it hit the frame of the display case or his toolbox; she closed it carefully enough that the bell didn't ring again. "Fair afternoon to you," was her cheerful greeting, and Nick frowned. Her face was pure Irish, which was no real surprise to him, living in Manhattan. Somehow, though, he hadn't expected the lilting Irish accent as well.

"It might be," he said bluntly, standing to block her view of the backroom where Rachel had been looking for some china to fill in a vacancy left by a recent sale. "Nick Wolfe."

A smile tilted her lips up and lit vivid grey eyes before she held out empty hands and said gently, "I'm no headhunter, Nick Wolfe, nor fool enough so much as to consider it under this roof. Might Russell be around?"

"Why?" He was on the close edge of rude, he knew, but Connor hadn't said anything about another immortal coming into the city, and Nick had learned the hard way not to trust smiling, dark-haired immortal women.

She only cocked her head to consider him thoughtfully, then said with that same gentleness, "For that I'm in town and would like to know if I'm cooking dinner for my brother or buying it. Would you be studying with him, then?"

"If he's your brother," Nick said bluntly, "then why don't you know the answer to that?"

She laughed then, a clear, sharp pleasure, and commented, "Oh, you are going to fit in with the rest of the family!"

Rachel came out from the back stockroom, moving forward before Nick could caution her to stay back. Her words made it clear she wouldn't have listened, either. "Aidan, dear, how are you? What pried you out of Syracuse?"

The strange immortal turned to smile at Rachel, stepping forward to catch both her hands in a gesture less intimate than a hug, but much closer than that of a familiar visitor. "I'm fine, Rachel, thank you. You look lovely; that shade of blue suits you splendidly. No, my publishers," and that clear voice slipped into an annoyed growl that matched the sudden irritation carried on her presence, "wanted to talk me into a 'profitable' contract." She smiled suddenly, wicked and amused. "They were none too pleased with me when I proved them wrong, either. Not least," Aidan said with the same undertones of laughter in her voice, "when they couldn't follow my calculations. It seems that no one under thirty knows how to use a slide rule anymore."

Rachel smiled at her, the unfeigned pleasure that Nick was used to seeing her save for Connor, or other close friends. "Dear, that was cruel." Her amusement belied her apparent sympathy for the publishers, and Rachel went on smoothly, "I'm sorry I didn't get to see it. Are you here overnight?"

"That depends on my brother," the Irish woman said with a shrug. "Is the wretch about, or have I missed him?"

Rachel chuckled at that, smoothing her woolen dress down with well-kept hands. "He went across the street to get a book I put on reserve yesterday. I suspect he's cursing the line at the register by now." Rachel glanced at Nick and began to say something -- then paused. Speaking more slowly and sounding no little concerned, Rachel asked him, "Nick, have you two been introduced?"

"Not yet, no," the former cop said grimly, and he'd let his hands slide up to rest on his belt, free for any action but it looked more casual than leaving them fisted by his thighs. "I take it she's a friend, Rachel?"

Rachel straightened slightly, frowning at Nick as she did. "That's enough of that, Nick. You know perfectly well I don't treat strangers this way. Nick Wolfe, this is Aidan Logan. Aidan, this is Nick, Connor's latest student. Nick, Aidan is Connor's sister."

"Sister." Nick looked at the clearly Irish woman, at her slender height and amused pleasure with the world, and compared them in his mind with Connor's stockier build, mutable eyes, and cynicism. "Oh, I've got to hear this." His teacher's presence poured around them and Nick suspected he _was_ going to hear it.

Aidan, however, shook her head, still smiling. "Oh, simple enough, Nick. I studied with the Spanish reprobate while he was still admitting to Egypt." 

"And brought the whiskey I chased you out of last night, Nick," Connor added from the door. He came up and hugged her with the bookstore bag still in one hand, and Aidan held on tightly for a moment, then sighed and stepped back. He caught her wrist with his free hand, amused, and said, "One of these days…."

"I'm going to carry half as many as you?" Aidan asked, smiling herself. "Quit being a nuisance, Connor, you know I'm not going to tell you what's hidden where, so quit trying. Now, you couldn't have mentioned that you had a student in a phone call, Connor? You had to let him wonder who _I_ was?"

Connor simply shrugged, and Nick knew he'd intended something by it. Aidan, however, glared at him. "Thank you so kindly, brother mine, you wretch. Best you not expect me to cook after this."

"You're welcome to buy," Connor said mildly. "I've not had Pakistani food in years and a new place opened up."

"You're buying," Aidan told him pleasantly. "I just had to turn down an offer from my publisher until they find a way not to bankrupt me for their own profit margin."

"Oh?" He frowned at that. "A problem?"

"Nothing I can't handle, Connor, you know that." Aidan shrugged. "If they give me too much grief, well, I can always change professions. One of my students has a pottery shop going; I could move and buy in with her. That might be no bad thing."

"What," Nick asked sarcastically, "not looking for help?" The sharp glance from Connor was his first warning that he didn't understand their relationship. Her comment was the next.

"Mind you," Aidan said pleasantly, "I'm glad to see a student who understands paranoia. Nonetheless, I believe you're a bit confused about the relationship here, Nick Wolfe. I'm the older sister. I handle the problems, thanks."

"Older," Nick commented. "Really."

Connor's chin came up and he said softly, "Nick. You're being rude to a guest."

"Guest or family, Connor? Or am I being rude to your girlfriend?"

She laughed at that, ringing amusement that made Rachel shake her head. "Oh, gods. Connor," Aidan asked, turning to him, "do men ever think of any rationale for women's behavior that _doesn't_ involve sex?"

Connor chuckled. "I'll ask you that in a few years when you start dating again. But I seem to remember you were a lusty thing yourself, sister, so I'd not start that were I you."

"You didn't use warning shots when you were gun-running either, did you?" Aidan glanced at Rachel and asked pleasantly, "If he's going to be such dreadful company, Rachel, may I buy your dinner as well to have someone to talk sense to?"

"I wouldn't dream of missing it," Rachel agreed pleasantly. "I'll start closing up for the night. Nick, would you start closing up the transoms? Aidan, if you'll lock up the cases...."

"I'll get the door," Connor said, amused, "if you'll total out the register, Rachel."

  
_~~~ finis ~~~_   


**Author's Note:**

> Nope. I have no idea where this was going either, and I'm saddling Connor with a different student now, so yeah, no, I have no idea what this was. Especially since Aidan moved to Seacouver before Nick met Amanda, so why would she still be in Syracuse here? Apparently, I was writing an AU of my AU. Thanks for sending it back, Raine!


End file.
